Saturday morning came slow, soft, and forgiving.
Mia woke to sunlight dripping through half-drawn curtains, warming the white sheets beneath her. For the first time in what felt like ages, she didn't bolt upright at dawn or think about chopping boards and spice ratios. No alarm, no Margaret, no ovens. Just silence, thick and golden.
The mattress beneath her hugged her like a cloud, and she stretched lazily, burying her face into the pillows with a long, contented groan.
Not today.
No rush today.
She rolled to her side, breathing in the faint lavender scent of the duvet, a luxury she still hadn't gotten used to. Her small room at the mansion was bigger than the living room of her childhood home. Wide windows, pale peach walls, polished floors that reflected the morning light. A private bathroom with marble tiles. A closet that could swallow her whole.
Every night she slept there, she worried she would wake up to find it gone. A dream stolen mid-sleep.
She lingered in bed a few more minutes, then pushed herself up, hair rumpled and eyes still heavy with dreams. Today was hers. And that meant one thing.....Kim.
Her best friend had been texting her nonstop since the moment Mia announced she got the chef position. Last night's message read:
IF YOU DON'T COME SEE ME TOMORROW I WILL INVITE THE SECURITY GUARD TO DRAG YOU.
The threat alone was enough.
Kim lived in a small but lively one-bedroom apartment, painted in bold colors that looked like laughter smeared on walls. The door flew open before Mia even reached it, and an excited shriek nearly knocked the breath out of her.
"Mia Brooks!" Kim yelled, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her dramatically. "You traitor! You disappeared for an entire week, an entire week, and you only sent me short messages like you're filing police reports!"
Mia burst into laughter. "I was settling in!"
"Settling in?" Kim widened her eyes, waving her arms. "You got hired in a billionaire's mansion, and you text me like, 'Hey I'm fine. I have a room.' Girl, you better start talking!"
She pulled Mia inside before she could even take off her shoes.
The living room smelled like fresh popcorn. A throw blanket lay tossed over the couch, and three mugs with different quotes sat on the table. Kim was chaos in human form, and Mia loved her for it.
"Sit," Kim demanded, already pushing her down. "Talk."
Mia couldn't help but smile. "Fine."
Kim sat cross-legged on the couch, eyes gleaming like she was about to watch a movie. "Start from the beginning. The mansion. The staff. The famous boss no one sees. Everything."
Mia drew in a breath. "It's… honestly surreal. The place is huge , like, huge. Even the staff quarters feel like a hotel."
Kim gasped dramatically. "How many pillows on the bed?"
Mia laughed. "Five."
"Five? Mia, that's rich people disrespect. Who needs that many?!"
"They're decorative!"
"They're stupid!"kim disagreed.
They giggled, and the tension Mia didn't know she'd been carrying slowly melted off her shoulders.
"And the people?" Kim asked, softer now.
"They're wonderful. Older, but kind. Margaret is strict, but she trusts me. Mr. Harold calls me Miss Sunshine." She hesitated, then grinned. "Clara is like a gossip machine with legs. She tells me everything."
Kim leaned forward, chin in hand. "So you're like… the mansion's baby?"
"That's exactly what they call me."
"Ohhh, my sweet little rookie chef." Kim patted her cheek. "Look at you!"
Mia rubbed her arm, cheeks warm. "The room is so big, Kim. The bed is like heaven. The sheets feel like, like silk clouds. And the bathroom,oh my God,the bathroom has a shower head that rains from the ceiling. The first night I took a bath, I almost cried."
"I would have cried," Kim said. "And stolen everything not nailed to the wall."
Mia snorted. "Please don't visit."
"Oh I will. I'll show up with an empty suitcase."
Their laughter echoed through the apartment. Mia breathed, calm and free, fingertips grazing the coffee mug on the table.
Kim, of course, didn't let the peace last.
"So," she said, "tell me about him."
Mia blinked. "Who?"
"Alexander Steele," Kim said slowly, like speaking to a stubborn child. "The mysterious billionaire. The ghost boss. The man who signs your paychecks."
"I haven't met him," Mia replied honestly.
"You haven't " Kim slapped her forehead. "Mia, you've been in that mansion for a week!"
"He doesn't live in the staff area," Mia laughed. "I only hear his name. Everyone calls him Mr. Steele like he's some phantom."
Kim narrowed her eyes. "He definitely has sharp cheekbones. You know the type. Silent millionaire. Brooding eyes. Probably looks like he was sculpted."
Mia shrugged, stirring her drink. "He's probably old."
"Nope," Kim said confidently. "Rich men stop aging at thirty-two. They just marinate in their bank accounts and remain pretty forever."
Mia laughed so hard she almost spilled tea.
"And the food? Do they make you cook weird billionaire dishes?"
"Actually…" Mia hesitated. "His fiancée does."
Kim froze. "Hold up. You didn't tell me about a fiancée."
The laughter evaporated.
Mia stared at her hands. "I didn't want to talk about her."
Kim straightened, suddenly alert. "Why?"
Mia swallowed, the memory prickling at her skin. "She came two days ago. Ordered this complex meal just to test me. The moment she walked in, the staff lined up to greet her. She made me stand there while she looked at me like I was dirt stuck to her shoe. She said things under her breath. Insinuated I was beneath them. Like I shouldn't be there."
Kim's expression sharpened. "Name."
"What?"
"Name," Kim repeated, deadly calm. "What is her name so I can fight her."
Mia blinked. "You're not fighting anyone."
"I absolutely am. I will show up outside that mansion with a rolling pin and become a viral sensation."
Mia burst out laughing. "Kim!"
"No, because who does she think she is? Talking to my best friend like that? Does she think she's entitled to oxygen?"
Mia's laughter shook her shoulders, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. The tension, the humiliation, all of it melted in the absurdity of Kim's outrage.
Kim folded her arms, pretending seriousness. "I'm small but mighty. I would end her life."
"You're 5'2," Mia said.
"With destructive energy," Kim corrected.
They laughed again until their stomachs hurt.
Later, they wandered through the streets, arms linked, eating pastries from a paper bag and window-shopping like teenagers. Kim tried on sunglasses she couldn't afford and posed like a model; Mia pretended to be a paparazzi. They passed a fountain, Mia threw a coin in it.
"Make a wish," Kim said.
Mia closed her eyes.
She wished, to keep feeling safe.
Not happy. Not successful. Just safe.
That night, when Mia returned to the mansion, the halls were quiet. The staff rooms glowed faintly with warm lamps. She locked her door and sat on her bed, hugging one of the decorative pillows she had once mocked.
Her phone buzzed....Kim, sending memes of fighting a "blonde rich witch" with a frying pan.
Mia smiled, soft and tired, heart warm.
Then she glanced up at the ceiling.
The mansion felt peaceful tonight.
Like a home.
But somewhere beyond those walls, in a world far above hers, people like Nicole played by rules she didn't understand.
And people like Alexander Steele…
remained shadows she still hadn't met.
For now, Mia let her head rest on the pillow and whispered one small promise to herself: "Tomorrow, I'll try even harder."
Sleep took her gently,full of lavender, soft sheets, and the echo of Kim's laughter.